I woke up today...
by Undapl
Summary: Giving into temptation through Dreams. Z!?!?!?
1. The Blood is Stirring Restlessly

There is something about feeling the screams, hearing their voices echo throughout your body, being more of an annoyance. Perhaps his amydala is fixed. Johnny's running through the underground dungeon, crashing into doorways and tripping over bodies; and the faces jerk back and bare their teeth at him, snapping at his torn black pants, which are shreds about his ankles. Johnny screams, and in this act frightens even himself, hopping up like a frightened rabbit, and then he tries to run even faster.  
  
"God... damn... YOU!" Someone screams, and then there's a maniacal laughter pervading through his soul. Damn, Johnny thinks, he hates it but he FEELS it, feels the emotion ripping at his flesh, the fear freezing him, forcing him to nonsensically run circles in a maze he should know well enough. He's freaking out, see?  
  
In the form of a Modernist Stream of Consciousness:  
  
Blood  
  
blood is red  
  
why is this brown?  
  
Why is it after me? - Blood  
  
I have it in me, it's rushing through my veins  
  
rushing through the dungeon  
  
I thought this place was my own  
  
but I want out  
  
out  
  
this isn't me anymore  
  
trapped  
  
Gotta get the bone - Heinous Monkey Foam  
  
NO! - Keep concentrating  
  
monkeys behind me, chasing, catching up  
  
the blood is pooling up underneath me, what if-?  
  
No. Can't be mine. It's never mine.  
  
Nothing to worry about.  
  
I own this place. Why isn't it mine anymore?  
  
Damn squatters.  
  
No place to call home.  
  
Not my body  
  
I'm all alone. Wish I wasn't alone. At home. But I'm alone. On the telephone.  
  
Darkness:  
  
a lone ray of light casts down the center of the room  
  
Phone.  
  
Devi.  
  
Society.  
  
People.  
  
Pause.  
  
Nothing to hold me back  
  
nothing to hold me in -  
  
step forward... but wait  
  
  
  
A black hole emerges from the black floor and black Johnny screams a black scream of shiny death and is falling, but death would be an escape wouldn't it? So he doesn't land, he just keeps falling.  
  
Alice in the rabbit hole -  
  
No, Satan down the spiral.  
  
God be merciful  
  
God give me a Hell to land in.  
  
God help me.  
  
God is asleep.  
  
God is dreaming a thousand dreams of a thousand million trillion flash bars, people scurrying about and sometimes he has nightmares and sometimes he just dreams to pass the time, and sometimes he hates the people of his dreams, but he always has that option to wake up and let all the stupid dream people disappear.  
  
Please God wake up  
  
I can't wake up.  
  
I don't know how to sleep.  
  
My feet in the air... to dream  
  
to die perchance to...  
  
meet Satan and God and after all  
  
dustmites, eating at my brain.  
  
The world was gone.  
  
A land, a splash, and a slight float on a dark surface. Give in, he thinks and doesn't attempt to float, he takes a breath but that air holds his small frame up against, the water. No use. Blow out useless oxygen, and he sinks to the depths. At the bottom sits a mirror, and Johnny, curious even in his last hour, kicks his feet to approach the mirror. At the sight of the reflection, he screams, water rushes into his lungs, and black clogs his eyes as the image plays itself repeatedly in his head, the upside down reflection of all the world, of the minute details skimming over the surface, pounding into his skull, until he wants to rip it off, something he can never escape, never....  
  
god's eye.  
  
can god vomit  
  
If God was a woman ---?  
  
no, A squatty gnome  
  
oompa - loompa doomy doom doom.  
  
Ripping own head off  
  
strength....? questionable.  
  
Johnny shudders and then white envelops him. A private heaven, perhaps?  
  
Heaven is what you want it to be.  
  
That would indicate some set notion of WANTING.  
  
He doesn't have that.  
  
"Sure you do."  
  
Devi glares down at him. "You want things. You're just ashamed of them."  
  
"Holes in you." Light seeping through flesh. Screams as something takes over.  
  
Fucking...  
  
but no. We mustn't get to that. Don't go that far. Wake up.  
  
Primal urges  
  
the same as emotions.  
  
Meathead instincts.  
  
Rise above that, Johnny.  
  
You could do so much more.  
  
The water drips.  
  
Why are you saddened? Why does the water dripping concern you?  
  
  
  
Nothing touches me, I'm invincible.  
  
I'm apathetic. I'm above and beyond.  
  
You can't touch me. I won't let you.  
  
I'm so far up, I can't even touch myself.  
  
I am nothing.  
  
So fuck you.  
  
  
  
Johnny wakes. 


	2. Time to Get a Life

The demon claws wrap around my head.  
  
Reality floods me, trying to remind me it exists: dry eyes, a mildew taste in the mouth, muscles aching from an awkward sleeping position. Heart racing. Never mind that.  
  
Stumbles, dreams, clouds filling my head.  
  
Stealing my sanity in the night,  
  
trying to convince me that nothing is real.  
  
Dreams  
  
take away any confidence I have of the world.  
  
Black edging near my head, laughing at me.  
  
Light threatening to take me away  
  
back to....  
  
Reach for the remote: no, I promised myself. No television. That's weakness.  
  
But... what is there to do besides waste the time?  
  
Mr.Samsa has gone..... he's morphed back into Gregor....  
  
everyone gives in after a while, everyone goes back to being human.  
  
Human instinct.  
  
But no... if he had relented, then I would have nothing more to believe in.  
  
Time goes by so slow when you sit and stare at the clock.  
  
4:23. I wonder if that's AM or PM. Having been exiled into a lower level of my house, not even the daylight can touch me now.  
  
There is nothing to do.  
  
4:24. I had been dreaming of something. I noticed, when I woke, that I was afraid. I jumped and looked around paranoid before I realized, with regret, that I had been dreaming. Trying to forget the dreams, because remembering would confuse things. But something had been chasing me.  
  
A monkey. I laugh. But no, then it had morphed into something quite more.... sinister. But - scare me? No, how silly. Nothing can touch me, not even death. How can I be afraid of anything?  
  
And perhaps - there was a girl...... no  
  
no, nothing of that. Some silly dream. Goddammit, why hasn't the clock moved to 4:25 yet?  
  
Oh, there it goes. 4:25: ho, hum. Time is passing. I'm getting closer to the end of it all. Perhaps I should make my own sect, of meditators; sit still, feel nothing, and become one with the world. No, no, that's not the way it should be. Sit, and realize that you're above the world. Yes. Out and beyond. Don't let them drag you into this sickening physical reality.  
  
Close your eyes and meditate. Time passes. I am nothing and everything. Transcendence. Nothing else matters because everything is shit. So let go, and in that, find a real truth. Something beside this petty stupid world. I know it's gotten bad when all I can think of is how stupid and hateful and pointless everyone is. I need something to turn to, I can't just hate, until the hatred becomes me. That's what happened before, with the doughboys. Consumed with hatred of those who don't even deserve to be thought about. I can't waste my time on them anymore. I have to become something else, go beyond them.  
  
Peace; Transcendence. I squint an eye open: 4:25??? STILL! Shit, you've got to be joking me. I glare at the clock. Move, damn you. You can't trap me, I'm gong beyond you. I stare at the dull red letters, spilling an eerie bloodish glow about the otherwise black room. After a while the set of numbers begin to dance and spin. Eyes playing tricks...? Dry; sleep refreshing... but I can't see any clearer. What?  
  
4:26 spins from left to right, mocking me, 'you don't know reality.' nothing is concrete. HAHAHAAH 4:26 screams at me. Wood splintering into my fingernails; holding the chair too tight, maybe? 4:26 pauses; so do I.  
  
Come on. Move. 4:26 teeters on the edge of a cliff. Time passes, or appears to; 4:26 is rolling on the floor laughing at my discomfort. It refuses to budge. "FUCK YOU!" I shout at it. But it remains indifferent to me. Shit, anger is an emotion. 426 doesn't hate, doesn't frustrate, doesn't care. 4:26. 4:26.  
  
The red blurs and distorts, slowly melting like warm chocolate, into three red drops of blood hovering in the darkness. They slide away from each other, closer; I can't even tell if they read four twenty six, four twenty six, anymore. An intensity; eyes? They could be eyes, if there were only two. But again, 4:26 confounds me, refuses to conform to a nice clean metaphor. Instead it remains this ambiguous three eyes glaring deep into my soul, that is if I had one.  
  
Then they blink, longer than they should; three full minutes by my own internal clock pass in darkness, before the red eyes return.  
  
"You want me to passssssssss......" Something hisses. Scratched voice, like a record. The last few words "me tooooooo passsssssss" slow, as if on purpose, but maybe it's just my perception of time that's fucking with me. "tooooooooooooooooo............. passssssssss............" in slow motion, drawing out the words painfully and carefully. Followed by a fast, but not high-pitched, cackle that abruptly stops.  
  
Wetness; blood dripping from my hands; I pull them off of the wooden box. Pain only slightly tingled my hands.  
  
"This is ME!" Surprise, and then a flood of images.  
  
Running through the woods, sunlight spilling in rows of rays that shatter the green growths that threaten to swallow me whole.  
  
Being punched by a thick, hateful bully at school, the smack oozing of blood and delicious pain, some acute sense in my head being awakened: I'm ALIVE.  
  
Leaning forward to embrace someone who will make it all better, make the loneliness and hatred dissipate....  
  
Protesting the idiocy of government issues, joining a group and gaining strength in voice.  
  
Hating a person out of jealousy, wanting them to burn in hell not because of their idiocy (that was worth only pity), but because you respected them, and they looked down on you.  
  
Sadness, hatred, envy, love, hope, failure, physical pain, all burst through my body at the same time, lifting me off of the wooden box and high into the air, dancing with the red glaring eyes, telling me, this is me, this is you, this is the world. Fuck you, fuck that.....  
  
seething water  
  
fills the hole  
  
and inside  
  
one drowns. or swims.  
  
but it doesn't really matter.....  
  
and that makes it worth trying.  
  
"AAAAAA" I find concrete ground by my own voice, and at once the images let go and I shatter on the floor. The eyes watch me incompassionately. Why is my body shaking? Why do cold chills skitter down my spinal cord, almost bewitching me to attack my back in an attempt to brush off imaginary ice? The room is very cold. And black. The red has dimmed, but I still feel it laughing. My head rolls without my control and I fall in a heap on the floor.  
  
"You want time to leave? You want to give it all away?" 4:26 comes back into focus, and then flips to 4:27. 4:28. 4:30. 4:37. 4:45. 5:00.  
  
"Wha---" I mumble, senseless. 5:40. 6:56. 8:00. 1:00. 4:00.  
  
"Stop -" the numbers quicken, spinning, relentlessly, forward and faster. A day has gone by, and I am tired and hungry again. Another day, and I am weak. Time is spinning fast, and I am helpless.  
  
"This is what you wanted, right?" The voice sneers. The clock spins even faster and it is next week. I drop to the floor, wanton with thirst. My insides are caving in. I slowly realize if time keeps up the pace, I will waste to death on the floor. It's destroying all the lovely visions it just tempted me with. It's all slipping out of my hands.  
  
"Stop!" I shout with what strength I have left. A month passes. Panic quickens my heart and I cannot breath.  
  
no..... I want to feel.  
  
I want to live.  
  
Time laughs and a year has gone by.  
  
I collapse, in what seems the third time, physical reality heavily oppressing any other thoughts.  
  
  
  
Johnny, empty stomach, shit in his pants, in a puddle of drool, sweat, blood and tears, lays motionless before a clock. 


	3. Nothing but Flesh Now

Did I forget to put a thingy up? Disclaimer, that's what it's called. Okay.  
  
Well if you haven't figured out by now, I don't own any of this. This is a story by me based on the creation of a certain character, by a certain human, who is not me. Thank you for your time.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Johnny woke up. His breath was uneven, shallow. His eyes ached as he struggled to open them.  
  
He was in a dark room, facing the digital clock. 5:11, it read. He must have fallen asleep again, watching the clock. Dammit, why couldn't he fight the desire to rest?  
  
As he watched, the clock blinked to 5:12. He had wasted so much time already sleeping. Still, what else was there to do? Almost a second later, the clock blinked 5:13.  
  
Johnny sat, glaring at the clock, remembering his dream. Time skating past him, and all the possibilities being wasted to shit. 5:14. Death. Fuck. All the lovely memories came back to him. Running and screaming and laughing. Feeling loved, belonging, content, full.  
  
Shit in everything, even morals.  
  
Perhaps the disgusting pigs of humanity are right; Why not just indulge?  
  
Johnny trailed hesitantly, almost afraid, out to the first floor of the house. Fortunately, no rays of light shone through the slated windows; it must be 5:14 AM. Good; he didn't want to deal with people now, in the moment of his weakness. He might be tempted to go back to killing them at will.  
  
Instead the early morning was empty, even the moon waning away, dissipating into the black hole of the sky. Johnny almost skipped out of his house, not even caring that it went against everything he believed.  
  
-fuck it all. I'm going to get a freezy.  
  
And the wind is breezing and nice  
  
and somewhere a birdy chirps idiotically happy.  
  
What did Devi say about negative and positive emotions?  
  
suppose....  
  
no but that was a dream.  
  
Still, fulfill, eat and rest and slide.  
  
maybe kill.  
  
no that kind of desire, emotion, is all hatred  
  
gets to the point where you can't see anything but the blood you hate  
  
but surround yourself with.  
  
No, no... I've had enough of that.  
  
It's no use.  
  
No good.  
  
Anyways, enough of this.  
  
Thinking is shit.  
  
Johhny watches the red goo slurp out of the metal spout and plop neatly into his plastic cup. Cherry, and then he decided to add a bit of Chocolate freezy on top. A mix. What was it? -suicide. Yummy.  
  
But he cautiously approached the counter. The clerk was a tired looking 22 year old, who was watching - sitting on the counter watching television, chewing on some namebrand chips he probably hadn't paid for. As Johnny approached, the clerk reluctantly jumped down and brushed his hands off.  
  
"Dude, look at this," He pointed Johnny's attention to the television as he rung up the brainfreezy. Johnny calmly, trying to stay calm, looked slowly up to the screen. A shark was casually munching on legs as people on a boat screamed and terrifiedly tried to paddle away. News programs, sigh.  
  
"Did you know a million sharks are killed by humans each year, and only 5 people are killed by sharks each year?" The clerk asked. "Du-u-u-u- u-u-ude!" He laughed. When Johnny didn't reply, he said "'Kay, that'll be fifteen dollars twenty five cents."  
  
Johnny slowly looked back down from the television. The cash register did indeed say 15:25. He slowly looked at the cashier, who hid laughter.  
  
"Are you trying to get me to pay for your food?" Johnny slowly asked, trying to understand. He wouldn't want to blow up over a miscommunication.  
  
"Hehehhe.... Dude, I'm just joking with you." That was it. In a second, Johnny was over the counter, looming over the frightened and surprised cashier. But no! His expert hand reached nothingness, where a gun should be. Johnny whirled around in panic. There was no gun behind the counter.  
  
"Whoa." The clerk looked disgruntled, then pulled out a gun from his pocket. "I have it!" He said in a voice sounding very much like a small squeaky robot. Johnny let go of the guy's shirt and scrambled back over the counter, slowly followed by the pointing gun.  
  
As if sent by an angel, the door rang and someone stepped in. The two guys tensely strung together by the gun, looked at the entrance. A girl stood on the carpet, frozen as she saw them. Johnny gasped, trying to breath, but the stimulus were too much. The clerk was trying to figure out what to say to free himself from guilt. The girl slowly stepped back, and swung through the door, changing to a full sprint when she got outside.  
  
"...Devi!" Johnny finally managed to squeak. He squinted at the clerk with sudden revelation: "Well you can't kill me now. You have a witness." And then, safe, he sprinted out the door after the girl.  
  
The only car in the parking lot must have been hers. He flung himself on the engine roof as she backed out of the parking space. She stopped and glared at him, and he pulled himself up to stare back at her through the dusty window. It was indeed Devi, older, mature... he smiled with hope. Then she turned on the antifreeze which spashed against the window and softly sprayed him. It was a nice feeling, refreshing. He sat cross-legged on the car. "Devi, I have to talk to you!" He said, suddenly feeling as if this was oh so very important.  
  
She let on the gas and zoomed forward, then quickly braked. Johnny lost his balance and tumbled onto the ground, in a pool of oil no less.  
  
He thought that was it, it was over.  
  
But the car hovered on the brink of escape; a car door slammed, and footsteps approached. He barely opened his eyes when Devi pushed him over, onto his back, and sat over him with a knife forced against his neck. It kind of hurt.  
  
"You... fucker." Devi said lowly to him. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"  
  
"Oh, Devi, it's all been so fucked up. But everything's okay now."  
  
"Everything's okay? Fuck you, Johnny, you little shit. You've ruined the past year or so of my life. And now you're still in the same shit. Tell me why I shouldn't just slit your throat right now."  
  
Something behind Devi's eyes changed, and she cocked her head at an angle and said "Shut up. I'm not doing this for you." Then she turned back to Johnny and pressed the knife closer to his skin.  
  
"If you have to ask you know it's wrong. I was wrong, Devi. Please forgive me."  
  
She let go of his neck with disgust, and then stood up. "Let -God- forgive your damned soul." She said, whirling around and running back to her car. Johnny scrambled up after her and squished himself into the car with her. She stopped and glared at him.  
  
  
  
Devi.  
  
A sense.  
  
the Burger....  
  
He leaned forward to a still Devi.  
  
Cool, soft flesh.  
  
The feel of life blood flowing inside another person,  
  
safely wrapped in with a bundle of flesh,  
  
breathing, living.  
  
Holding another person. Another mind.  
  
She sighs or makes noises, she feels, she knows.  
  
I've never felt someone like this.  
  
Soft folds of flesh and tissue and... and...  
  
it's all dissipating, disintegrating with time,  
  
a random, unnecessary act.  
  
But then there is the question of why not?  
  
Just give in...  
  
take advantage of the present moment.  
  
Of the scene.  
  
I'm with someone.  
  
Somebody in existence outside of my head.  
  
Which is the best I could hope for...  
  
A mouth coos and lips are tenderly pressed together,  
  
I feel a breeze of spirit, suck it hungrily into my body.  
  
Devi give me life.  
  
Devi give me spirit.  
  
Devi...  
  
consciousness fades and waves.  
  
Nothing but flesh monkeys now.  
  
Nothing but pure, undiluted life.  
  
Intimacy - take my breath away. Falling deeper still.  
  
The hunger I couldn't will away in the past.  
  
Taking over my body like a monster,  
  
like some force of evil  
  
that I give into. Give it up.  
  
Let me go. I'm flying over a thousand mountains  
  
-what had she said?  
  
But had that been her, or a dream?  
  
"Do you want to go to your place--?"  
  
Yes, yes oh god yes please  
  
Nothing could stop them from commiting the ultimate evil.  
  
God snoozed sloppily as Johnny stretched himself over Devi.  
  
Screaming, shouting, I want to burst and fall apart in a thousand streamers, with you, in you.  
  
Screams of ecstasy... tainted with a little fear perhaps.  
  
Why does she look so scared? This is so right.  
  
We fit.  
  
This is the end, this is... It.  
  
Everything.  
  
I almost shudder with contentment.  
  
or some other, intense feeling that I've never before experienced.  
  
......  
  
But those screams are quite disconcerting.  
  
Stop Devi, you're going to ruin it.  
  
Why are you screaming?  
  
Can't you just live for now? We're supposed to be happy.  
  
But... she doesn't look very happy.  
  
What's wrong? Why does something have to be wrong again? Still? Please, Devi,... Devi, shut up, please let me be, please let us be. Everything's okay now.  
  
  
  
Johnny closes his eyes and caresses Devi's naked skin, as she reaches for the knife thrown under the seat... 


	4. Stop This Stupid Thing Called Feeling

Johnny woke up.  
  
Hands, legs = numb.  
  
The world sat glumly watching him, waiting for him to move to action.  
  
He laid on the couch and moved his head to check the clock, but he couldn't see anything but darkness.  
  
He had fallen asleep with a knife in his hands.  
  
He was in a room underneath his house, camping out to avoid the world.  
  
But it kept coming back to haunt him.  
  
"God DAMN IT!!" Johnny screamed. The knife felt sticky in his hand, and he viciously slammed in into his leg. He screamed with pain and then fell back, cursed tears stinging his eyes.  
  
"Shutup shutup!" He scolded himself. The pain insistently demanded it's existence. Blood was life wasting away. He lazily pulled the knife out of his torn flesh and dropped it weakly beside the couch.  
  
"Goddamn the noises..." He slowly sat, and tried not to feel all the sensations throbbing back into his body, a dream faintly remembered.... the feel of Devi underneath him.  
  
No, no, stop it. Vomit curled up in the edges of his stomach just thinking about it. Stop. Johnny took the knife and carefully sliced a thin line down his left arm. To distract himself. He gasped as the blood flowed out of his body. Hurting like a wuss. No, don't even give yourself that satisfaction. Don't let yourself whine about the pain. Shit. Transcend the body. Get out....  
  
But it wasn't just a sex thing, it wasn't the bloody stinkmonkey act that he had imagined it to be. In the dream, at least, it had been something else. It had been Devi. It had been... getting close, giving into a person. Becoming another person.  
  
He wouldn't let himself think about it. But something deep inside Johnny was really screaming at him to cry. And he really, really hated that.  
  
Sitting alone in a room led to too much thinking. He had to get out.  
  
He laid back and meditated. Buddhist monks fasting for nine days.  
  
The wind in the temple softly filtering the room.  
  
Trees, buildings, ash-people, all melting away into light.  
  
Into energy.  
  
Material is just a vessel to hold that force...  
  
and then the wind?  
  
Pure force, not tainted by....  
  
too much thinking.  
  
pseudo-intellectuals at a coffee house.  
  
Still, it's no use complaining. People are stupid. Get over it.  
  
But then, what am I left with?  
  
Laying in the dark, I'm mere matter taking up room in the atmosphere.  
  
Matter exists because of the air that holds it.  
  
Someone was telling me, talking about a pencil and the air holding it's solidity and I didn't understand. Anyone who acts as if they understand is just delusional. Just give it up...  
  
But what about the time passing me by so fast?  
  
What about that idea?  
  
What about living while I still can?  
  
NOOOooooo... that's just the dreams getting to me. They're making me want to believe in something. Believe that something matters. The dreams are getting to my head, making me doubt what is real, what I believe.  
  
I want to be so cold that nothing can touch me.  
  
I want to finally escape this stupid thing called flesh,  
  
called life,  
  
called the world.  
  
The knife gives me slow release, trying hard to not feel the pain that's necessary to my freedom. Soon it will all be gone.... and I will feel delicious nothingness..... it was the option always available, why didn't I pursue it earlier? I did, but as a tease. I didn't realize This was the answer. I didn't realize, all along, the emptiness I was searching for, could only be found in Death.  
  
.  
  
...  
  
......  
  
.........  
  
.................  
  
...........................  
  
..............................................  
  
  
  
"What are you doing back here?"  
  
-Consciousness won't let me go- the clerk squints at me in disgust.  
  
I am about to scream but I see God. GOD! I run over to him.  
  
"God..... dammit!" I concentrate hard and under my will, God explodes into a million pieces. Then he slowly comes back to shape and now I see that I've finally got his attention.  
  
"Johnny." His anger melts into.... a smile? "I'm glad you've finally come here."  
  
Surprise - "you've been expecting me?"  
  
"Of course. Let me down, peons." The creatures holding his bed obediently lower him to my level, he's significantly shorter actually. What it feels like to be taller than God! I laugh.  
  
God takes my hand in a handshake and smiles proudly. "It's nice to see such a wonderful aspect of your own creation."  
  
"What is this all about? I'm not a good person. I'm not going to heaven."  
  
"You, Johnny, realize what it's all about. This is what you wanted, right? Look at them, sitting there, content. They don't give into desires or emotions. They feel nothing and everything. This is your goal. This is your heaven."  
  
"Sure, but that doesn't mean I deserve it."  
  
"What is this talk of deserving? Who deserves it? I decide who comes in. I make the people good or bad. If I give you a heaven, you belong here."  
  
During the conversation, Johnny follows the gnome God into the gates and is lead to his very own special chair. He sits and looks at the god evenly. Some sort of solid peace seems to rest him.  
  
Very slow.... a clear nothingness falls upon him. He is about to ask the god,  
  
*What was it all for, anyway?*  
  
But the feeling of peaceful laziness finally calms him. The whole history of the world is but a dream, a nightmare that is rushed away quickly after waking, because it isn't worth the trouble to pay attention to.  
  
Johnny sits and finally stops thinking. For once, he simply exists. 


	5. You've Could've Been Something

Devi approached the old house and sighed. It had been a long time. She was over the obsessive hiding, she was over the mind-numbing fear. She wasn't at the same place as before, and Johnny didn't even matter anymore.  
  
She just had to know. She had called but the phone just rang. No more screams on the other end, just silence. Then the phone calls to his house had turned into recording by operators: "The phone number you have dialed is now invalid..." And with that, he had disappeared. She was confident in that. He -was- gone. She just had to know.  
  
The door was locked, but so rotten and fragile that she easily kicked it open. The house inside met her with the dusty atmosphere of a coffin. No life whatsoever. The few pieces of furniture inside were cold and untouched. Devi wandered, remembering that night, having never forgotten it. 'I'll forgive but I can't forget.' She thought to herself. 'No, nevermind that. I can't forgive either.' But it didn't matter anymore, because he was gone. The house stood as a landmark of all the shit he represented, but it was nothing. She smiled, relieved. Nothing.  
  
She sat on a box and started laughing. To be frightened for so long, of something so pathetic! She laughed until she couldn't breathe. Johnny... he wasn't a monster. He was the victim. She laughed some more.  
  
It was a soft clank that interrupted the laughter. Some distant noise from a hidden room she had missed. Cold dread boiled in her stomach, the feel of another person close...  
  
The rooms and doorways melted into a vast array passageways. The rooms grew dark as they led away from any windows. Devi shuffled through her bag and clicked on a tiny flashlight she carried with her. A small beam of light flew across the room and landed on an old burger boy doll.  
  
She was about to start the laughter up again, when she realized another form in the room. The flashlight told her it was Him.  
  
Johnny. He lay on the floor. Johnny. She stepped over to him menacingly, her hand grasping the knife in her pocket. She gave him a slight nudge with her foot, but he didn't move. She squatted down next to him.  
  
He seemed so nice when he was unconcious. Even if he was lying in a pool of his own saliva, and his body was emitting a rancid smell. Perhaps he was dead. Devi pooled her courage together and rolled the frail body over. Johnny lifelessly accepted her touch. His eyes were open and staring into themselves. She held her breath and placed two fingers on his throat.  
  
A weak beat stuttered through his body and into her touch. He was alive, though barely. A soft giggle rose in her throat and she pushed him away from her. He muttered something and subtlely flexed his left hand. "You're nothing." She said, standing up and looking down on him.  
  
"Goddamn." He laid there, eyes staring into nowhere, and though she couldn't but help feeling happy that her predator was finally out of her nightmares, something else tugged at her emotions. The limp body, the vicious villain, and...  
  
The potential she saw in him before, during their talks in the bookstore. Among all else, he was also something... almost good.  
  
"You could've been so much." Devi whispered to the lucid Johnny. "But instead.... you blew it all away. And now,"  
  
She stepped through the door and made her way towards the light. Towards the world. "Now you're nothing." And with that, she stepped into the sunlight, stretched her tired muscles, yawned and begun her trail back home. 


End file.
